


This Is a Love Story

by Conduitstreetcat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Death, Gun Violence, M/M, Short, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	This Is a Love Story

I’ve seen you before.

I usually get up after sundown, get to the supermarket, buy a ready meal and some beers, take them back home before going to work. I can’t always visit the shops after a job. Sometimes I see the sunrise, but these dark days, usually not.

A few months ago I was late finishing. It’d been hard, taken long, and been messy. I was in the bathroom washing my face, and when I came out – there you were.

I don’t know which one of us was more surprised.

I dashed for the door and ran.

Then two weeks after that, you entered the lift as I was leaving it. That was the first time I got a good look at you – well, mostly your eyes. They pulled me in. Twin universes in which I got lost for the eternity between left foot stepping on the metal edge of the lift floor and right foot stepping on the white marble of the lobby.

I turned around, saw a glimpse of your pale face as the lift doors closed.

Three weeks ago, I’d done a job on the ground floor of a house. It was dark, but the curtain was open. When I left through the garden I looked back in through the window – and there you were.

I’d seen you before, of course… so many times. So many.

It just took until now to recognize you.

I feel more than hear you entering the kitchen.

I turn around.

There you are. Your tailored suit of an expensive blend in tasteful matte black. Highly polished shoes. A white shirt, black silk tie, with small silver skulls – nice touch. Your black hair slicked back. And those eyes. Pitch black in the darkness of my kitchen.

“I kind of thought you were the cleaner,” I say.

You shrug. “I guess I am, in a way.”

I reach for the gun on the counter, pick it up, turn back to you.

You walk closer, your leather soles squelching on my dirty kitchen floor.

“You’ve given me so much, Sebastian… all your life,” you say softly, stroke my cheek, wipe away a stray tear. “I guess it’s time that I thanked you… properly.”

Your eyes grow larger as your face comes closer. Your lips touch mine, smooth, soft. A shiver runs through me as I open my lips for you while I put the gun against my jaw. Your body touches mine, one hand on my back, one stroking my neck, as your tongue enters my mouth. I moan softly.

_bang_


End file.
